Oasis
by BrookieC00kie
Summary: After Yinsen's death, Tony finds and adopts his daughter. Without a real plot outlined, this is most likely going to be a series of family-centered drabbles during Tony's downtime.
_Bleak_ was the first word that came to mind. Without hope, without healing, without love. Oh, there was a semblance of love, to be sure; there were three meals a day, a roof over their heads, and beds to sleep in. All of the bare material necessities were provided but that, as Tony well knew, could not possibly make up for lack of love.

The children of the Gulmira orphanage regarded Tony with bland, listless eyes and turned their attentions back to what they had been doing. All of them, except for _her_. Though she had been an infant in the photograph, there was no denying the searing, soulful sepia eyes she shared with her father. Those were Yinsen's eyes, the slight almond shape a testament to Chinese ancestry. (During their captivity, Yinsen had told Tony of his Chinese father emigrating from Shanghai, of how he was teased in school for his _dirty kafir blood_.)

The girl's eyes seemed to brighten, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile that made Tony's heart hurt. He gasped and clutched his chest, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. The director beside him cleared his throat and reached out a hand as if he would touch his shoulder. "Mr. Stark, are you well? Would you like some water?"

"No," Tony gave the man - was his name Ali, Abdul? - what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Thank you, but I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's just so powerful, you know?" The director's eyebrows rose, in surprise or confusion, Tony could not tell. He nodded politely, but Tony could tell that the man had no idea what he meant. For him, these children were a means to an end, a paycheck, and it was just as well - Tony Stark was about to give the man the biggest 'paycheck' he had ever seen, and would ever see again in his life.

Tony abruptly handed the man his tote bag and told him to look inside. Tony smirked when he saw the man's eyes predictably widen. " _Alhamdullilah_! Thank you!" he exclaimed, his face reddening. "I can not even - I don't know what I have done to deserve this!" Tony clapped the director on the back and grinned. "You're a good guy, Ali. It takes a special kind of person to look after these children. I want them to have everything they need. I have a friend who will check in every so often, to make sure. Do you get my meaning?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark." The director's eyes dulled somewhat, but he kept his placid smile. "Of course. Only the best for the children of Gulmira."

. . . . .

" _Only the best for the children of Gulmira."_ The orphanage director's words echoed in Tony's mind on the long flight home. As Yinsen's daughter slept in the seat beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, he realized that there was only _one_ child of Gulmira that he wanted the best for. And she would have the best, of everything. Her name, Tanima, roughly meant _ocean wave_ in Pashtun. It had taken months of searching to find her. Sadly, Yinsen had died without knowing that his beloved daughter was alive.

Not long after Yinsen was captured, Gulmira was invaded by the Taliban. His wife Amina and son Jamal, then 12, had been immediately killed when they resisted the takeover of their home. As for Tanima, she had spent the past year in the orphanage, surviving it seemed only by the grace of God. Even when Tony had liberated the city, he had not thought to look for her. It was only after revealing his identity that he learned about Tanima, and with Nick Fury's help had finally tracked her down.

Tony knew he would have to rely on Fury's help again, and sooner than he would like. He would have to go about legally adopting the girl. He would have to see about getting a lawyer, a social worker, a child psychologist; he needed to get Tanima an English tutor, the sooner, the better. She had only spoken to him once, her voice a litany of sweet, unintelligible mumbles in response to his halting _Salaam alaykum._

There was so much to do. A random quote came to mind, an Aristotelian aphorism: _"Give me the child until he is 7, and I will show you the man."_ "No," Tony pleaded aloud. "Please God, help me!" Tanima was 7 years old, and from the moment of her birth, in the last year of the Taliban's official reign, her life had been fraught with peril. He had to believe that he wasn't too late, that he could still give the child a stable home. He would do more than just give her creature comforts: he would keep her safe, and he would love her.

"You're safe now," Tony promised Tanima as she slept, oblivious. Yes, she _was_ safe, and she _would be_ safe, from that moment on.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This little plot bunny has been hopping around in my head for a while. My writing tends to be much more character-driven than plot-driven, and I don't really plan ahead so I'm not sure where this one is headed. If any of you has any suggestions or comments, please let me know. Thanks for reading! :)


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